


A Shot of Septiplier

by skyhillian



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF), Septiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:51:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4698110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyhillian/pseuds/skyhillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots written from prompts. // There will be a fair bit of angst. Content warnings listed at the beginning of each chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bridge Over Troubled Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A has had a hard life and is planning suicide. They decide to jump off a bridge at dawn so that the last thing they see can be the only thing they deem beautiful. Just before they got on the ledge, Person B walks by asking if they came to watch the sunrise. Person A, not wanting to be stopped by this stranger, says yes, and decides to wait for them to leave. Instead, the two start to get along and go out for breakfast. Over the next few years, Person A starts to get their life back together, and them and Person B become friends-turned-couple, and are happy together. One night a year or two into their romantic relationship, Person A finally reveal what they were really going to do the morning they met. What Person B’s reaction is up to you.

 

Trigger warning: The entire subject matter of this is about suicide. If it will bother you, please do not read.

 

 

 

Mark braced his hands against the railing of the bridge and sighed deeply. The scent of early morning flooded his nose and he smiled. The sun was just beginning to rise, turning the bland sky into a masterpiece of pinks, yellows, and purples. Birds chirped all around him, excited at the prospect of morning.  _At least the last thing I'll see will be one of the few things in life that's actually beautiful_. 

Carefully, he hopped onto the ledge and let his legs dangle over the edge. He wanted to finish watching the sun rise before he jumped. He stared down at the rushing water far below him and chuckled darkly. For someone who had an intense fear of drowning, this was definitely an ironic way to go about this. 

"Oh, good mornin'," a heavily accented voice said from behind him; Mark startled and turned his head so quickly that his neck cracked quietly. A man roughly the age of Mark walked up to where Mark was sitting and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the ledge. He had gorgeous blue eyes and hair that was beginning to go grey. "I didn't expect to see anyone this early." He smiled, and Mark noted that while he had crooked teeth, his smile was absolutely breathtaking. "You watchin' the sunrise, too?"

Mark bit down on his bottom lip and looked at the man. "Uh... y-yeah. Just watching the sunrise." Mark turned back to look at the sunrise and swore internally. Of course someone had to show up and interrupt him. All he wanted was one final, peaceful moment, and some goddamn Irish dude had to come and fuck it up.

"So, how're you this mornin'?" the stranger asked. Mark repressed the urge to cackle. How was his morning? Here he was, sitting on the ledge of a bridge, planning on killing himself. His morning was  _grand_. Obviously, he didn't say any of this, so instead he just said,

"Fine."

The blue-eyed man sighed. "Not very talkative, are you?"

Mark knew that if he didn't say anything else, the man would probably decide he was a lost cause and leave, but for some reason, he found himself answering. "I don't normally talk to strangers I encounter on bridges at five thirty in the morning."

"My name is Jack. We're not strangers anymore." Mark frowned.

"I don't think that's how that works, Jack." He made the mistake of looking at Jack again; he got caught up in that amazing smile.

"Maybe not, but I got you talkin' to me now."  _Smug bastard_.

"I guess you do, Jack," Mark agreed, albeit a little grumpily. He wanted—no,  _needed_ —Jack to leave. The sun was almost fully over the horizon and he was so fucking ready to jump that it was unreal. He couldn't force himself to make an innocent bystander witness such a thing, though, so he refrained from just leaping off of the edge.

"The polite thing to do would to now be tell me your name," Jack said. 

"Maybe I'm not polite," Mark snapped.

"You're not much of a morning person, are you?" Jack inquired, and Mark glared at him. 

"Why are you still here?" Jack seemed slightly taken aback by the question, but he quickly recovered.

"Because I like the view." He winked at Mark and against his wishes, his cheeks flushed pink. "Aw, you're cute when you blush."

"Fuck you, I'm not cute." 

"You're even cuter when you're blushin'  _and_  indignant." Mark gave Jack a light shove on the shoulder and Jack laughed.  _Looks like I've found another thing in life that's actually beautiful_ , Mark thought. "Would you like to go get some breakfast? I know a really great place that makes kickass french toast."

Mark stared back down into the water again. He  _knew_  he was going to regret this, but he turned anyway and hopped back onto the sidewalk. "Sure."

 

* * *

Mark cuddled against Jack, loving the way that he fit perfectly together with his boyfriend. Every curve and angle of their bodies seemed to just mold together and it never failed to amaze him. It had been almost two years since he had met Jack on that bridge, and though Jack knew that Mark dealt with mental health problems, he wasn't aware of the circumstances surrounding the events that led to their meeting.

"Hey, Jack?" Mark chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

"Yeah?" 

"Do you... Do you remember the day that we met?" Mark had no idea why he was telling Jack this. He somehow felt like he was lying by not telling Jack about such a thing and he had absolutely no idea why. 

"How could I forget? Your sass is ingrained into my memory," Jack said, and Mark cracked a small smile. "Why?"

"I was... When you walked up that morning, I was planning on jumping off the bridge." To his own ears, his voice sounded incredibly small. He heard Jack's sharp intake of breath; his boyfriend's arms tightened around him.

"Why didn't you?" Jack asked somberly.

"Because you walked up and I didn't really think you should have to witness something like that," Mark told him. The inside of his cheek was incredibly irritated by now from his nervous chewing. He switched to the other side.

Jack kissed Mark's forehead. "I'm really, really glad that I showed up, then." He sounded like he was going to cry, and Mark knew that if Jack started crying, he wouldn't be able to keep himself from crying, too. Mark pressed his face against Jack's chest and held him tight.

"Me, too."


	2. Wanting Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Person A of your OTP has been depressed for a very long time, and after a particularly bad day they spend a long time in the bathtub, contemplating suicide/drowning themselves. Then Person B, after noticing Person A hasn’t been out for a really long while, decides to come in the bathroom and sit with person A until they are ready to get out.  
> BONUS if Person B has known about Person A’s depression and knows that Person A might be suicidal, so they spend the whole time talking Person A out of committing suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obvious warning for self-harm.

Jack sat in the bathtub, slouched down far enough for his mouth to be covered by the hot water. He watched the steam rise in rivulets off of the water; small waves ripped with every breath he took. 

He hated this. The room was silent for the most part; he could hear the television playing in the living room and the sound of the cars driving by on the road outside. To anyone else, it would seem peaceful—a quiet evening to take a nice bath. For Jack, however, it was deafening. The silence was closing in around him like a plastic bag pulled over his head, and his brain was constant static, like it had a bad signal or something. He snorted derisively.

_I definitely have a bad fuckin' signal_ , he thought darkly. His eyes drifted to the razor blade that was sitting on the side of the tub.  _I probably have a few wires crossed and some bolts missing, too. I'm a fuckin' wreck. I'm dysfunctional. Broken._

He reached his hand out of the water and grabbed the blade. After resubmerging his hand, Jack turned the razor over and over between his fingertips. The stupid rhyme he had heard in middle school suddenly bounced back into his head.  _Across the stream, not down the flow, or up to heaven you'll surely go._  He snorted again. This was so stupid.  _He_  was so stupid. 

Jack pressed the edge of the blade to the tender skin of his wrist and began to drag downward. His skin split beautifully and the water immediately began to turn pink as his blood mingled with it. It burned, oh god, did it burn, but it was the first time in so long that Jack  _felt_  something. He was halfway down the length of his arm when the bathroom door opened.

"Jack—" Mark's eyes widened. He didn't scream, he didn't shout. Calmly, Mark grabbed a wash cloth from underneath the sink and sank to his knees next to the tub. He pulled Jack's arm from the water, and Jack watched with a morbid fascination as diluted blood ran down his arm and dripped off of his elbow. Mark pressed the cloth to the wound and held Jack's arm onto the ledge of the bathtub to keep it elevated above his heart in an attempt to slow down the blood flow.  With his free hand, he plucked the razor from Jack's other hand; he surprisingly let go with no resistance. They sat in silence for a while; the only movement was Mark periodically checking the cut to see if the bleeding had slowed at all.

"You gonna explain to me just what the hell you think you're doing?" Mark finally asked, though Jack was relieved to find no trace of anger in his roommate's voice. It sounded almost as if he were asking what the weather was like, or whether or not they had milk in the fridge.

"I was trying to fix it," Jack said softly. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he was going to need stitches. That was not an emergency room visit he really wanted to have. The change in Mark's expression made Jack want to reach for the razor again. He didn't want pity.

"Jack," Mark began, "that's not the way to fix it."

"How would you know?" he asked gruffly. 

"You're not the only one who has tried to fix it that way, I assure you." Mark was checking the wound again and he didn't see Jack's eyes widen. That explained why Mark always had a bracelet and a watch on. "You know what I realized halfway through?" Jack shook his head. "I realized that I didn't want to die. I realized that what I wanted was to  _feel_  again." Jack nodded numbly.

"Why can't I feel anything, Mark?" Jack could feel the burning sensation in his nose and behind his eyes and he did  _not_  want to cry, but god fucking dammit. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Mark rubbed his free hand along Jack's arm; he would have hugged him but the man was sitting in the bathtub. "There's nothing wrong with you," he said. "You're sick, that's all."

Jack's lower lip trembled and he knew that he had lost control. "I don't want to be sick."

"Honey, no one  _wants_  this." Jack hadn't really expected Mark to call him honey, but he found he didn't really mind. Mark brushed away one of the tears that was rolling down Jack's face. "It's the hand you've been dealt, and it's a really shitty fucking hand. If you got this hand in poker you'd fold immediately, but you don't really have that choice." Only Mark would use poker as a metaphor during this kind of conversation. "Instead you have to trade in your cards and pray that you get a full house."

"How am I supposed to do that? I can barely force myself to get out of bed in the morning."

"You take it one day at a time," Mark told him. 

"What if I don't want any more days?" Mark squeezed his hand.

"I'll be right here for you until you decide that you want all of the days, Sean."

Jack sat in the bath with Mark next to him on the floor until the water turned cold. Mark only left the room so that Jack could get out of the tub and wrap a towel around himself. Once Jack was covered, Mark dressed his wound after deciding that it wasn't deep or wide enough to need stitches. That night, the two boys camped out on the living room floor in a pile of blankets and pillows so that Mark could keep an eye on Jack. Jack didn't know how to respond to the amount of compassion Mark was showing him, so he settled for cuddling close to his roommate while they watched a Harry Potter marathon. 

So far, he had decided he wanted this day. He hoped that he would want tomorrow as well.


End file.
